Delayed by Decades: I Mean To Shine

Linda Hoover's debut album contributes to the prehistory of Steely Dan

Someday we’ll get the full story. Somebody will put together a database of the songs Walter Becker and Donald Fagen wrote in the years before Steely Dan, when they were just starting out, attempting to make it as songwriters for hire. Such an accounting will trace the origins of songs the pair wrote for Jay and the Americans, Linda Hoover and others — as well as songs that later turned up, in altered form, on Steely Dan records.

Today, Omnivore Records contributes to this long wished-for endeavor with the first-ever full release of I Mean To Shine, Linda Hoover’s debut. Produced by Gary Katz, the album was recorded in 1970 for Morris Levy’s Roulette Records and then shelved over (what else?) business disagreements. (Wild guess: Perhaps the notorious Levy demanded publishing credits for songs he didn’t write?) As the liner notes make clear, Hoover was traumatized by the setback; she eventually left New York and drifted away from music.

The album features three Hoover originals, covers of the Band’s “In a Station” and Stephen Stills’ “4+20” and five Becker/Fagen pieces, including the pop-gospel title track. It involves instrumental contributions from Steely-affiliated guitarists Jeff “Skunk” Baxter (who’s got a terrific album of his own, Speed of Heat, out today) and Denny Dias, as well as members of the Dick Cavett Orchestra.

The Becker/Fagen songs on I Mean To Shine are all worth hearing; they contain prototypical flashes of Steely Dan’s wry, harmonically adventurous approach to pop. Sometimes, as on the wicked-good “Roaring of the Lamb,” Hoover’s earnest vibrato-heavy delivery doesn’t fully align with the material; the lyrics want a more skeptical, sour, sardonic bite. But on the title track and elsewhere, Hoover nails the tone and the spirit of the songs. Her plaintive interpretation of the interlude-like middle section of “I Mean to Shine” powerfully expands on the song’s theme. When Barbra Streisand covered the tune on her 1971 hit album Barbra Joan Streisand, that entire section was cut — a decision that renders the song more “radio friendly” and at the same time far less dimensional.

Here are a few thoughts prompted by this record, which was one of Katz’ first albums as a producer: While they had keen understanding of the structural demands of pop song form, Becker and Fagen were not robots; these songs show strong determination to expand (and/or subvert) the verse-chorus trap. Even at the beginning, the duo specialized in what might be described as “conversational” melodies — deceptive, almost talky phrases that become earworms as they repeat. And as on “Brooklyn,” “Kings” and the strongest tunes from the early Steely Dan albums, the songs they wrote for Hoover utilize the straightforward chord progressions of country rock — with occasional sly glances at weird jazz chords. If you’ve ever heard Steely Dan songs on the radio, you’ll recognize the vibe at work right away.

The commercially available Becker/Fagen songwriting demos can sound like they were pulled from a sonic scrap heap. This artifact offers something else entirely — a professional and delightfully crisp recording featuring a promising singer/songwriter collaborating with the songwriting duo that would become a transformational force in the popular music of the 1970s. Nothing here but history. Can you hear what has been done?

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