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| Not flattering, but definitely rock 'n' roll. |
The Hit
“Savannah Nights” open with bare-naked percussion - bongos (I think), definitely a snare, some quick taps on a hi-hat (toms?) - until a percussive rhythm guitar comes in, then horns, then a full standard rock ensemble takes over and it’s off to the races. When the vocals start, you’re pretty sure you know that voice…
…and, if you’re a fan of 1970s Bay Area rock, you do. Shit, how do I approach this one?
The Rest of the Story
“It’s not what I grew up doing and where I came from. So I just said, ‘You know, go ahead and do your thing. That’s cool. I’m gonna go do mine.’ That’s kind of where I left it until such time.”
That’s Tom Johnston, founder, vocalist, guitarist and songwriter for the Doobie Brothers talking about his bad luck, yet brief departure from the band that made him pretty damn famous. And that’s the rub with this chapter of the One Hit No More series: whenever someone talks to Johnston, pretty much all they talk about is the Doobie Brothers. Johnston more or less backed into his solo career and it didn’t last that long, at least not on the studio side. He recorded just two albums - 1979’s Everything You’ve Heard Is True and 1981’s Still Feels Good - and I’ve already covered half the story of his solo career with that one quote.
Talking about the rest of it requires talking about the Doobie Brothers, but I can only do that for so long without going against the animating presence of this series - i.e., learning and writing about one-hit wonders. “Savannah Nights” was Johnston’s one hit as a solo artist - and that only reached No. 34 on the Billboard (in 1980, for the record). That’s not to say the Doobies charted high or often - they didn’t, not for all the materail they put out - but they have legacy (e.g., “China Grove,” “Listen to the Music,” and “Long Train Running”) that stretches toward iconic, if mostly for their era (I know; the Doobies 2.0 had some hits of their own). They also have the kind of longevity that most bands can only dream of. As such, this post covers only how he got started and how his solo career came about, because it’s pretty much all Doobies on either side of that.
Johnston was born in Visalia, California, in 1948. The only thing I know about his childhood is that he started on the clarinet, transitioned to the saxophone, then the drums, then the guitar. The rough chronology he offers for each phase doesn’t add up, but, apart from getting on a piano enough to count as acquaintances, Johnston never looked too far back after picking up a guitar. That level of focus allowed him to develop a style, one of the defining sounds of 1970s rock. From Wikipedia’sentry on him:
“…his adaptation of his own acoustic guitar style, blending a unique strum and percussive accented rhythm at the same time on one instrument. This style, interwoven with melodic hammer-ons, gave Johnston an early signature sound in popular 1970s rock music.”
The scraps of his bio make it clear how badly Johnston just wanted to play: based on what I’ve read, he landed his first paying gigs with a Mexican wedding band, one that may or may not have split soul numbers with Latin. As someone who claims Little Richard, Bo Diddley, James Brown and Elvis Presley as influences, none of that seems so surprising. Nor does his short stint fronting his own blues band.
Even after relocating to San Jose to continue his education (graphic art design major, go Sparts!), Johnston kept playing where he could. That led him to other musicians, starting with drummerSkip Spence, formerly of Jefferson Airplane/Moby Grape, but Johnston’s home address, 285 South 12th Street, introduced him to the band that started as Pud (members: John Hartman and Greg Murphy) and became the Doobie Brothers (only with Pat Simmons coming into the picture, and Dave Shogren replacing Murphy, or something close to that). Long story short, the Doobie Brothers started playing around Norther California in 1970, with some number of their appearances at area Hell’s Angels chapters, including gang favorite, Chateau Liberte, an A&R Rep for Warner Bros. named Ted Templeman caught wind, and he signed them to Warner before the year ran out. One thing I want to flag, this out of Wikipedia’sentry on the Doobie Brothers:
“Simmons had belonged to several area groups…and also performed as a solo artist. He was already an accomplished fingerstyle player whose approach to the instrument complemented Johnston's rhythmic R&B strumming.”
The main thing I want to emphasize with that - the Doobie Brothers had a distinct sound, one that carried them through the 1970s. And, as I said earlier, Johnston rode along for a lot of that time…until he couldn’t. Though he’d struggled with ulcers since high school, the “road touring lifestyle” exacerbated them to the point of bleeding/hospitalization. His body crapped out in the middle of the tour to promote 1975’s Stampede. The rest of the band scrambled to find a replacement - and they did in a mellow-toned tenor(?) named Michael McDonald - and then they carried on.
They also kept going, and largely without Johnston. He took a year off to recover - lifting weights and playing softball, according to what he told AZ Central in 2018 - and worked to return to the Doobies line-up, only for exhaustion to slow him down again in 1976 and to find a band heading in a different direction. It turns out, McDonald came in with more than a voice:
“And then they discovered that he had all these songs. Or not all these songs, but he had some songs written. And they were really good songs. So they tried a couple out, the first of course one being ‘Takin’ it to the Streets.’ And it did very well.”
“And that’s when they started going in that direction. As they should have.”
With that, the band built around the writing/playing of Simmons and Johnston became a band built around the writing/playing of Simmons and McDonald. Johnston didn’t agree with the direction, so he went solo - as one foreshadowed in the opening quote…and that’s pretty much it. He toured with his band through late 1970s and early ‘80s, he had the hit and so on. Toward the end of all that, the original Doobies Brothers line-up reunited - this was in 1982, and Johnston came back - for a farewell tour, but they only hung it up for five years and then picked it back up again. Which is to say, the story of Tom Johnston’s solo career is the story of his professional career outside the Doobie Brothers. And…scene.
About the Sampler
“What made the sound of the band to begin with, was his finger-picking and songwriting, as well as mine -- which was coming from a total other direction, which was more R&B and blues and rock 'n' roll…”
I borrowed that from a 2018 interview with Ultimate Classic Rock to float the theory that Johnston’s solo career lets people know what he’d sound like without Simmons’ playing and sensibilities to balance it out. I’ve only dabbled in the Doobie Brothers’ sound from the album before Johnston’s hiatus (1975’s Stampede) to the one that featured his last contributions to the band before doing his own thing for half a decade (1977’s Livin’ on the Fault Line; Johnston left the band (and took his material) after they couldn't come to terms with what to include on it), which means I didn’t put in the time to back up that theory. I did, however, through a few songs from each onto the sampler - and based on nothing but preference - so you can answer that question for yourself. The songs on the sampler:
Stampede: “Sweet Maxine,” “Take Me in Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While),” “Rainy Day Crossroad Blues"
Livin’ on the Fault Line: “Little Darling (I Know You),” “You Belong to Me,” “You’re Made That Way”
I pulled the rest of the sampler from the two Johnston albums Spotify had on hand, which I’ve already named and, his one hit aside, here are the rest:
Everything You’ve Heard Is True: “Down Along the River” (flirts with disco), “Small Talk Time” (more on-brand), “Reachin’ Out for Lovin’ from You” (Johnston wasn't shy about dropping the "g" in a song title), “Man on Stage,” and “Outlaw”
Still Feels Good: “Madman,” “Last Desperado,” and “Excuse Me Ma’am”
That’s it. You’ll like them or you won’t. At this point, I mainly wonder how many people hear “Savannah Nights,” or hear Tom Johnston’s name and think, “that’s the guy from the Doobie Brothers." I wouldn't have known enough, for what it's worth, but I don't think I'd mind the miss either.
Till the next one…which isn’t great.
“Savannah Nights” open with bare-naked percussion - bongos (I think), definitely a snare, some quick taps on a hi-hat (toms?) - until a percussive rhythm guitar comes in, then horns, then a full standard rock ensemble takes over and it’s off to the races. When the vocals start, you’re pretty sure you know that voice…
…and, if you’re a fan of 1970s Bay Area rock, you do. Shit, how do I approach this one?
The Rest of the Story
“It’s not what I grew up doing and where I came from. So I just said, ‘You know, go ahead and do your thing. That’s cool. I’m gonna go do mine.’ That’s kind of where I left it until such time.”
That’s Tom Johnston, founder, vocalist, guitarist and songwriter for the Doobie Brothers talking about his bad luck, yet brief departure from the band that made him pretty damn famous. And that’s the rub with this chapter of the One Hit No More series: whenever someone talks to Johnston, pretty much all they talk about is the Doobie Brothers. Johnston more or less backed into his solo career and it didn’t last that long, at least not on the studio side. He recorded just two albums - 1979’s Everything You’ve Heard Is True and 1981’s Still Feels Good - and I’ve already covered half the story of his solo career with that one quote.
Talking about the rest of it requires talking about the Doobie Brothers, but I can only do that for so long without going against the animating presence of this series - i.e., learning and writing about one-hit wonders. “Savannah Nights” was Johnston’s one hit as a solo artist - and that only reached No. 34 on the Billboard (in 1980, for the record). That’s not to say the Doobies charted high or often - they didn’t, not for all the materail they put out - but they have legacy (e.g., “China Grove,” “Listen to the Music,” and “Long Train Running”) that stretches toward iconic, if mostly for their era (I know; the Doobies 2.0 had some hits of their own). They also have the kind of longevity that most bands can only dream of. As such, this post covers only how he got started and how his solo career came about, because it’s pretty much all Doobies on either side of that.
Johnston was born in Visalia, California, in 1948. The only thing I know about his childhood is that he started on the clarinet, transitioned to the saxophone, then the drums, then the guitar. The rough chronology he offers for each phase doesn’t add up, but, apart from getting on a piano enough to count as acquaintances, Johnston never looked too far back after picking up a guitar. That level of focus allowed him to develop a style, one of the defining sounds of 1970s rock. From Wikipedia’sentry on him:
“…his adaptation of his own acoustic guitar style, blending a unique strum and percussive accented rhythm at the same time on one instrument. This style, interwoven with melodic hammer-ons, gave Johnston an early signature sound in popular 1970s rock music.”
The scraps of his bio make it clear how badly Johnston just wanted to play: based on what I’ve read, he landed his first paying gigs with a Mexican wedding band, one that may or may not have split soul numbers with Latin. As someone who claims Little Richard, Bo Diddley, James Brown and Elvis Presley as influences, none of that seems so surprising. Nor does his short stint fronting his own blues band.
Even after relocating to San Jose to continue his education (graphic art design major, go Sparts!), Johnston kept playing where he could. That led him to other musicians, starting with drummerSkip Spence, formerly of Jefferson Airplane/Moby Grape, but Johnston’s home address, 285 South 12th Street, introduced him to the band that started as Pud (members: John Hartman and Greg Murphy) and became the Doobie Brothers (only with Pat Simmons coming into the picture, and Dave Shogren replacing Murphy, or something close to that). Long story short, the Doobie Brothers started playing around Norther California in 1970, with some number of their appearances at area Hell’s Angels chapters, including gang favorite, Chateau Liberte, an A&R Rep for Warner Bros. named Ted Templeman caught wind, and he signed them to Warner before the year ran out. One thing I want to flag, this out of Wikipedia’sentry on the Doobie Brothers:
“Simmons had belonged to several area groups…and also performed as a solo artist. He was already an accomplished fingerstyle player whose approach to the instrument complemented Johnston's rhythmic R&B strumming.”
The main thing I want to emphasize with that - the Doobie Brothers had a distinct sound, one that carried them through the 1970s. And, as I said earlier, Johnston rode along for a lot of that time…until he couldn’t. Though he’d struggled with ulcers since high school, the “road touring lifestyle” exacerbated them to the point of bleeding/hospitalization. His body crapped out in the middle of the tour to promote 1975’s Stampede. The rest of the band scrambled to find a replacement - and they did in a mellow-toned tenor(?) named Michael McDonald - and then they carried on.
They also kept going, and largely without Johnston. He took a year off to recover - lifting weights and playing softball, according to what he told AZ Central in 2018 - and worked to return to the Doobies line-up, only for exhaustion to slow him down again in 1976 and to find a band heading in a different direction. It turns out, McDonald came in with more than a voice:
“And then they discovered that he had all these songs. Or not all these songs, but he had some songs written. And they were really good songs. So they tried a couple out, the first of course one being ‘Takin’ it to the Streets.’ And it did very well.”
“And that’s when they started going in that direction. As they should have.”
With that, the band built around the writing/playing of Simmons and Johnston became a band built around the writing/playing of Simmons and McDonald. Johnston didn’t agree with the direction, so he went solo - as one foreshadowed in the opening quote…and that’s pretty much it. He toured with his band through late 1970s and early ‘80s, he had the hit and so on. Toward the end of all that, the original Doobies Brothers line-up reunited - this was in 1982, and Johnston came back - for a farewell tour, but they only hung it up for five years and then picked it back up again. Which is to say, the story of Tom Johnston’s solo career is the story of his professional career outside the Doobie Brothers. And…scene.
About the Sampler
“What made the sound of the band to begin with, was his finger-picking and songwriting, as well as mine -- which was coming from a total other direction, which was more R&B and blues and rock 'n' roll…”
I borrowed that from a 2018 interview with Ultimate Classic Rock to float the theory that Johnston’s solo career lets people know what he’d sound like without Simmons’ playing and sensibilities to balance it out. I’ve only dabbled in the Doobie Brothers’ sound from the album before Johnston’s hiatus (1975’s Stampede) to the one that featured his last contributions to the band before doing his own thing for half a decade (1977’s Livin’ on the Fault Line; Johnston left the band (and took his material) after they couldn't come to terms with what to include on it), which means I didn’t put in the time to back up that theory. I did, however, through a few songs from each onto the sampler - and based on nothing but preference - so you can answer that question for yourself. The songs on the sampler:
Stampede: “Sweet Maxine,” “Take Me in Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While),” “Rainy Day Crossroad Blues"
Livin’ on the Fault Line: “Little Darling (I Know You),” “You Belong to Me,” “You’re Made That Way”
I pulled the rest of the sampler from the two Johnston albums Spotify had on hand, which I’ve already named and, his one hit aside, here are the rest:
Everything You’ve Heard Is True: “Down Along the River” (flirts with disco), “Small Talk Time” (more on-brand), “Reachin’ Out for Lovin’ from You” (Johnston wasn't shy about dropping the "g" in a song title), “Man on Stage,” and “Outlaw”
Still Feels Good: “Madman,” “Last Desperado,” and “Excuse Me Ma’am”
That’s it. You’ll like them or you won’t. At this point, I mainly wonder how many people hear “Savannah Nights,” or hear Tom Johnston’s name and think, “that’s the guy from the Doobie Brothers." I wouldn't have known enough, for what it's worth, but I don't think I'd mind the miss either.
Till the next one…which isn’t great.
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