Been wanting to write about this band for a while. They recently began their 50th anniversary tour—postponed a year due to COVID—so it’s a good time to finally put pen to paper.
During the Doobies’ heyday when I was in high school and college, I liked them, but not enormously so. Their music rang from AM and FM dials so often, and they appeared so frequently on TV shows like Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert, there was no need for me to spend money on their records. I was also a rock music snob (even more so than today). Oversaturation and commercial success had the little snob creature inside my ears forewarning me, “Nooo, Pete! This band is too commercial! Not dark enough. Not hip enough for you.”
My rock music palette then was headed by the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Robin Trower, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Roxy Music, King Crimson, Velvet Underground, and so on. Heavy shit, man.
But time and tide have plastered a thin layer of duct tape over the snob creature’s mouth. Like with Petticoat Junction, I take scant heed of relevancy, image, the charts, my peers’ judgment, or the opinions of critics like Robert Christgau. As my WordPress compatriot Cincinnati Babyhead would say, their music takes me. It grabs me. And that’s what matters. Remember the days when melody, harmony, musicianship, lyrics, and good vibes meant something?
Like the band Genesis, there are two eras in the Doobie Brothers’ history. The first era was dominated by guitarist Tom Johnston, and the second by keyboardist Michael McDonald. The cement that held both of them together was finger-style guitarist Patrick Simmons, the only member who’s been with the band its entire ride. All three of these blokes are top-notch singers, songwriters, and musicians. Now, really. How many groups can boast that?
The Johnston period was characterized by pumping “chunka-chunka” guitar-based songs, whereas McDonald brought a smoother, blue-eyed soul sound to the group. Both eras have their adherents. While I prefer the Johnston era, there are a lot of McDonald-era songs I love as well.
The Doobies formed in San Jose, California in 1970. Influenced by Haight-Ashbury legends Moby Grape, they started out as a foursome: Johnston, Simmons, drummer John Hartman, and bassist Dave Shogren. Their big audience at the start were local bikers, and they took their name from a comment by a friend: “You guys smoke so much dope, you should call yourselves The Doobie Brothers.” Laughter all around the hazy living room. But the name stuck.
Their self-titled debut album (1971) had some decent songs, especially “Nobody,” but the engineering and production were muffed, and the LP is all but forgotten today. Shogren then quit, and the other three brought in two guys: bassist Tiran Porter and second drummer Michael Hossack. This five-piece was taken under the wing of fledgling Warner Bros. producer Ted Templeman, who’d been with the minor West Coast group Harpers Bizarre.
Toulouse Street (1972) was a major improvement over the debut, propelled by “Listen to the Music,” “Rockin’ Down the Highway,” “Jesus is Just Alright,” and one of my personal fave Doobies tunes, Simmons’ spooky “Toulouse Street.” The band burned through the record charts and never looked back.
The next three Doobies albums continued the hit parade and seemed to get better and better: The Captain And Me (1973), What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits (1974), and arguably their artistic high point, Stampede (1975). By the time of Stampede, drummer Hossack had been replaced by Keith Knudsen. Also joining was ex-Steely Dan flash guitarist Jeff Baxter.
Around this time co-leader Johnston was getting burned out, and was suffering from a severe stomach ulcer. Baxter recommended keyboardist Michael McDonald, whom he knew from the Dan, as a possible reinforcement. Simmons heard McDonald sing. His jaw dropped. He then practically begged a wary Templeman to give him an audition. When Templeman finally heard McDonald sing an abbreviated version of “Takin’ it to The Streets,” his jaw dropped. Both guys realized they had a chance to nab a Ray Charles-styled vocalist. The fact he could also write hit songs was an accidental bonus.
McDonald and Simmons steered the band through the final four Doobies albums: Takin’ It To The Streets (1976), Livin’ On The Fault Line (1977), Minute By Minute (1978), and One Step Closer (1980). While Tom Johnston had been the lynchpin of the Doobies sound early on, and written and sung most of their biggest songs, by the time of Fault Line he was pretty much in the shadows. He officially left in ‘77. The band then hit a commercial zenith with the thrice-platinum album Minute By Minute. But it was becoming slicker with each record, straying ever-closer to homogenous L.A. territory and further from its earthier Northern California roots.
Simmons realized how far the Doobies had drifted. One night in ‘81 he called McDonald to say he was leaving the group that he’d begun with Johnston, that the music just wasn’t the same. McDonald, being the decent man that he is, completely empathized with Simmons. After only one rehearsal without Simmons, he and the others decided to retire the band.
But you can’t keep a good band down. The Doobies did a Vietnam vets charity concert in 1987, which stimulated more get-togethers, and they haven’t stopped touring since 1993. They’ve released six more albums since One Step Closer, including this year’s Liberté. The core of the band today is Johnston, Simmons, and multi-instrumentalist John McFee, who joined in 1979 (see header photo).
I had the good fortune of seeing the Doobies live in 1978, right when Minute By Minute was climbing the charts. It was at my alma mater, Ohio University (no, not The Ohio State University). They actually performed in my dormitory. Seriously. Our rooms were on the perimeter of a large circular assembly center that housed the basketball and graduation arena. Although I didn’t have a ticket, a small group of us gathered in a darkened stairwell and broke through a locked door, then quickly blended with the crowd. (I don’t advocate breaking and entering as a hobby. But, shit. With the fact that my digs were hosting the band? And the money my parents and I were spending?)
Anyway, my two big memories were Simmons and Baxter sitting side-by-side on the edge of the stage, rocking and trading guitar licks; and the song “It Keeps You Runnin’” (from the Takin’ It album), with its hypnotic chorus…which altered my consciousness even more than it was already altered. I was a Doobies convert that night.
By the way, the 50th Anniversary Tour will include not only Simmons and Johnston, but also McDonald and Little Feat ivory wizard Bill Payne. Here’s the leadoff track from Stampede, the Simmons (music) and Johnston (lyrics) collaboration “Sweet Maxine,” which exemplifies the sound of early Doobies. If this don’t get you either bopping or air-guitaring…well, you just weren’t born with it in your soul.