Steely Dan “Countdown to Ecstasy”

There’s so much written about Steely Dan now (maybe this wasn’t always the case?) and, I admit, I’ve probably read a lot of it—I enjoy reading it. Even on my own website—a Steely Dan “page” where I write about individual songs, picked randomly, and try to decipher them without direct help from outside sources. As far as this album—its number just came up—so can I say anything I haven’t already said? I have an idea… I’ll pretend I just bought this record! In 1973 I would have been in junior high—though I don’t think I bought it until after I already had “Pretzel Logic”—the next year—so maybe 8th Grade, or 9th? Unfortunately, I don’t remember which one I had first. Either way, I liked the songs, and I thought the guys were very intriguing and funny. Only four songs per side—maybe that was why it was in the cutout bin? I have no idea what the name of the album means—it sounds like an advertisement for cigarettes, or else a Banacek episode. The first song is called “Bodhisattva”—almost too jaunty for me even back then—even more so now. “Razor Boy” sounds like jazz, but also has steel guitar—two things I didn’t like at that time (I know…) Now, of course, I like nothing better—but I was practically an old man before I fell in love with this song. I had no idea what it was about, but it made me think of razor clams. Next, “The Boston Rag”—implies more seafood—were these Boston guys? And what rag, exactly? But this song has an undeniable groove—then and now—and it was probably one of those songs that helped me develop what I like in a song—the quiet verse part with steady drums underneath. “Your Gold Teeth” was definitely a bummer for me back then—inscrutable, in spite of a lot of words I should understand. It is cinematic. Of course I love it, now, and I love this album. There was a brief time—back when I commenced that annoying habit of “ranking” everything—when I put this Steely Dan as number one. I can’t say that holds true now—although, now, I entirely refuse to rank them (unless being paid to do it).

I probably tried not to look too closely at the album cover (which looks like a watercolor)—lest one of the naked men in chairs reveal his penis—since you get the definite feeling that the cover might be continuing to morph… even after you get it home. Naturally, now, I very much like the cover, though I’ve just noticed that the chairs are odd—kind of a combination of desk chairs with arms, and tubular steel kitchen chairs—these chairs do not exist in nature. I’ve always loved the back cover, a full-size photo of the band in the studio, lots of lights, knobs, switches—it’s cold-tone black and white except for some red “on” lights and the smoldering cigarette in the foreground ashtray. Did I match the guys up with their credit names, back then? Probably not until much later—and even then, the first one to fascinate me was “Skunk.” Two of them have their feet up on the console, three look bored, two look impatient at the photographer’s intrusion, and they all look a bit insolent, surly, maybe pretentious, and not at all welcoming. Kind of good models for a 14-year-old about to start dealing more with people—including squares and authority figures. The guy with the ridiculous moustache is wearing an Olympia Beer shirt—which wasn’t as elusive as Coors, but I don’t think you could get it in Ohio. I believed it was good beer, perhaps favored by Clint Eastwood (he drank it in like every movie but the Spaghetti Westerns).

Side Two… things really take off—that first song, “Show Biz Kids”—I’d never heard anything like it. Background singers singing something over and over that I couldn’t make out, exactly—and crazy guitar. I can make out Fagen’s words, however, about poor people, and stars—which must be movie stars, and Steely Dan T-shirts—and the show biz kids—whoever they may be—they “don’t give a fuck” about anybody else. First time I ever heard “fuck” in a pop song? No doubt. Then the song that really sold me, “My Old School,” with all of its collegiate references (which, when you’re 14, is more adult than adult). Even though there’s underlying anger (“never going back”) it still oozes nostalgia for the college life. Or maybe that was my take—we visited my friend’s older brother (who may have been the one to “turn us on” to Steely Dan) at Kenyon College, and my imagination did the rest—and I always connected this song to that. Despite the anger—which I guess was exciting to me—“California tumbles into the sea, that’ll be the day I go back to Annandale” (wherever that is, his old school) —and he really means it—and I pick up an expression I can pull out sometime. “Pearl of The Quarter”—too pretty and too country for my young self—it would be a while before I gravitated to the beautiful, slow stuff, but I like to think I still found the melody irresistible. “King of The World” was just purely alienating, and it still has an unpleasant edge, sounding like it’s coming from a car that’s driving down the tunnel to Hell—but had I taken in the lyrics back then (no lyric sheet and no internet) I might have been able to categorize it along with those apocalyptic Charlton Heston movies I loved so much. Okay… kept it under a thousand words, Ma! Top o’ the world!

9.6.24