Your overlooked ’70s song of the day is “When the Morning Comes,” from Daryl Hall and John Oates’ oft-overlooked album, Abandoned Luncheonette.
This album, Hall & Oates’ second, came out in 1973, the fall of my 9th grade year. I listened to it all that year, into the spring and summer of ’74, and beyond. The sound was unique to my ears, a mix of pop and folk and a little bit of Philly Soul, and all the songs were stellar. It became a key part of the soundtrack of my final year of junior high school, even if I was one of the few kids listening to it. I remember bonding with Patty Glessner, the high school senior who worked at my dad’s TV and appliance store, over this record; it’s like we were the cool kids who knew a secret nobody else had heard.
The album itself was only moderately successful, reaching #33 on Billboard’s Top LP & Tapes chart. That wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite the success that the duo would have when they left Atlantic Records for RCA Records. Their first RCA album contained the big hit “Sara Smile,” their first top ten hit, and things only went up from there. They got really, really big in the early 80s when they rode the MTV wave to true chart-topping success.
Those later Hall & Oates pop tunes are fine, I suppose, but I much prefer the mellower grooves of Abandoned Luncheonette. The album contained a lot of great tracks, including “She’s Gone,” “Las Vegas Turnaround,” “Had I Known You Better Then,” and this song. “When the Morning Comes” was the lead track on the album (side one, track one) and set the tone for everything that followed. Mr. Hall wrote the thing and sang lead; studio musicians backing them up on this track included Hugh McCracken on electric guitar, Steve Gelfand on bass, Joe Farrell on oboe, Ralph MacDonald on percussion, and the then-ubiquitous Bernard Purdie on drums. It’s as good a way as any to start the morning.
By the way, the album cover features an old abandoned diner in Pottsdown, Pennsylvania, about 40 miles outside Philadelphia. When the Rosedale Diner went out of business in 1965, owner Bill Faulk had it towed to a small wooded area along Route 724 in nearby Kenilworth. It remained there until about 1983, when the county’s fire company burned the remains to clear the land for future development. Photographer Barbara Wilson, a friend of John Oates, took a photo of the diner, in glorious black and white 35mm film, then hand-colored it via a silkscreen process. The image is timeless.
