I was out for a run and this song came up on the playlist and I knew I had to post it. “Reason to Love” is a masterpiece of a single, a perfectly crafted piece of poprock. From the opening harmonica, to the killer organ, to the ever so slightly harmonic vocal, everything comes together in this late 1970s new wave remelding of so many elements of previous decades’ popular music.
The Laughing Dogs were part of the CBGB scene in New York City that included the Ramones and Television, but they took those influences right back into the rock and roll mainstream. This song appeared on their major label debut album, The Laughing Dogs. 
It should have been a huge hit single, but it wasn’t. The band had one more major label release before disappearing into obscurity. A shame but the period between 1979 and 1983 produced an amazing array of great poprock performers – people like Marshall Crenshaw, Nick Lowe and bands like Rockpile, only some of whom made it into the charts. But you can rediscover the Laughing Dogs and their music here.
Reason to Love
There is no particular theme to this post’s trio of songs, though each selection has a distinct sound that sets it apart. Starting with some Canadian content, Ontario native Matthew Barber typically runs the gamut of breathy guitar folk to straight up bar room rock and roll, but on “Blue Forever” it is the hypnotic piano hook that drives the song, later aided by some understated, echo-y electric guitar.
Simple Kid is the moniker for Irish multi-instrumentalist/producer Ciarán McFeely. After making some waves with his punk band, The Young Offenders, McFeely stripped things down to a solo project, initially recorded on a home multi-track cassette recorder. “Staring at the Sun,” from his 2004 album 1, kicks off with a distinctive guitar hook, with the rest of the song channeling a great Beck-like vibe. Sadly, after his equally interesting 2007 album 2, Simple Kid largely disappeared.
New Zealand’s Strange Babes round things out with a blissful, retro-sixties pop gem, “Come Back Around,” featuring chime-y guitars and killer organ fill that follows the chorus. They are not going to win any awards for lip-synching but the video here shows a band that is reverent without being derivative of the poprock psychedelic scene.
I discovered Ike Reilly just this last year, a week after he had appeared at the Drake Hotel in Toronto in support of his latest album Born on Fire. What an opportunity missed! But Reilly is not new on the scene, with recordings as far back as 2001, and performing career stretching back to the late 1980s. Imagine Bruce Springsteen meets hip hop, but by someone who could really pull it off. That guy is Ike Reilly. His material has all the great rock and roll vibes accompanied by an effortless alternating talk/singing style. Like Springsteen, Reilly gives voice to the sense of hopelessness and desolation facing working class communities in the face of catastrophic job losses and a general lack of political leadership. And like Bruce, he manages to capture the vignettes that make a life: the broken promises, the failed adventures, the unfulfilled potential.
From the three albums attributed to just Ike Reilly (there are three more with his backing band The Ike Reilly Assassination) I count at least nine must-listen tracks, though I feature a few less here. From his most recent Born on Fire “Am I Still the One For You” and “Underneath the Moon” are both great songs, but “Two Weeks-a-Work – One Night-a-Love” has a great groove and carries on Reilly’s strong career focus on work and the lack thereof.
2009’s Hard Luck Stories showcases the struggle for meaningful work on a host of songs but “Good Work” nicely captures the dilemma facing today’s youth who, despite partying together, will see some move effortlessly from privilege to opportunity while others struggle for whatever they can get. From the same record, “Girls in the Backroom” has a raucus sing-a-long quality masking some pretty desperate behaviour.
Winding back to 2001 and what can only be considered a minor masterpiece, Reilly’s Salesmen and Racists is a no-holds-barred critique of America’s class society but remains a remarkably tuneful indictment. “My Wasted Friends,” “Duty Free” and “Hip Hop Thighs” have hooks galore and a lot for the thoughtful listener to consider after the melodies fade.
