Saturday Morning Soundtrack: "Dancing in the Moonlight" by King Harvest (1972)

For me, 1973 is the year that really started sounding like "the seventies" (though 60s soul is still going strong at this point with bands like the Temptations, the O'Jays, and the Chi-Lites churning out hits). Laid back bands like the Doobie Brothers, America, and Chicago are starting to emerge. Neil Young has gone solo. David Bowie has entered his Ziggy Stardust phase. Stevie Wonder remains bigger than ever. Elton John is a rising star. And singer-songwriters like Randy Newman, Harry Chapin, Paul Simon, Jim Croce, and John Denver are thriving. This is a time that truly highlights rock and pop's diversity--all the way from Alice Cooper to the Eagles.


I really wanted to look at "Brandy" by one-hit wonder Looking Glass--the story of a resiliant barmaid in a port town who falls in love with a roving sailor. It's storytelling at its finest. However, I just couldn't pass up this week's song, which holds a special significance to me. So this week do yourself a favor: listen to both!

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Saturday Morning Soundtrack @ Youtube

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"Dancing in the Moonlight" by King Harvest (1972)

For me, the first thirty-seconds of this one-off hit are among the most moving in popular music--that Wurlitzer electric piano line establishes mood, atmosphere, setting, in ways I feel incapable of describing. When that line plays--a serene lullaby from a child's music box--we are dancing in the moonlight. That's what made this song come to me so naturally back in 2007, when I wrote my first literary short story ever, "Jacob's Ladder." King Harvest's hit was the right tune for a long night drive in which an impulsive boy and his ever-patient father face their futile attempts to stop a destructive construction project in their neighborhood.

We didn’t speak on the slow ride home. I sat up high in the front seat of my father’s Yukon, my feet dangling above the charcoal floor mats, above the rolling black tires on the road. I pressed my face against the tinted passenger windows, staring up at the Big Dipper—what my father called Ursa Major—and the North Star, Polaris. My father sang “Dancing in the Moonlight” softly to himself, and the fog lamps cut tidy swaths in the night, illuminating the faded reflector strips out on old route 209. As we pulled into the driveway, I wanted to ask what would become of us. I wanted to ask what we would do now. But I knew the answer from the way my father turned the key in the ignition, flicked off the headlamps, and just sat there. 

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So what do you think? Did I get it right or miss the mark? Please, feel free to weigh in using the comments below. And, if you would like to write a Guest Entry for the "Saturday Morning Soundtrack" series where you creatively respond to one of your favorite rock songs, don't hesitate to contact me with queries.