More than nostalgia? A review of Yacht Rock: A Dockumentary
In 2010 I wrote an entry on “soft rock” for an encyclopedia on world music genres (Continuum Encyclopedia of Popular Music of the World Volume 8: Genres: North America: Encyclopedia of Popular Music of the World David Horn Continuum). I was quite surprised by the publisher’s interest since “soft rock” has longed lacked respect from rock music’s critical establishment. Most music critics who validated rock as an artform in late 1960s and 1970s magazines (e.g., Crawdaddy, Rolling Stone) were White men from the silent and baby boomer generation who viewed rock ‘n ‘roll, and rock, as cultural disruptions to the mid-century U.S. mainstream culture. If newer music wasn’t sonically disruptive, lyrically subversive, and/or politically charged it was insignificant. By definition “soft” variants of rock ranked below tier. For example, the 1993 edition of the Rolling Stone Album Guide, a guide representing typical rock critic sensibilities, does not feature entries on 70s and 80s soft rock icons like Captain & Tennille, Christopher Cross, Michael McDonald, Kenny Loggins, and Leo Sayer. Though their popularity had faded by then other artists tied to the genre with more of a rock orientation, such as Journey and Toto, are featured but their albums are typically scored in the one to two-star range on a five-star scale.
HBO’s Max’s new “dockumentary” offers an affectionate overview of an overlooked era of pop music.
I suspect this critical disinterest ties to a lack of respect for this music as well as something more fundamental I discovered when writing about soft rock. Unlike country music and jazz, soft rock is more of a radio format than a discernible musical genre and has long lacked a culture or subculture. It did not evolve from an underground subculture nor does it not represent a political movement. The whole notion of soft rock is a happy accident which grew from the displacement of pre-rock pop music singers from mainstream pop radio in the early 1960s when Billboard created a separate chart. There you were more likely to find new songs from Perry Como and Peggy Lee than top 40 radio. By the late 1970s the format was renamed “adult contemporary” to reflect the proliferation of rock era performers who recorded melodic, romantic music with traces of rock music. Since rock critics viewed rock ‘n’ roll as the antidote to the smooth love songs and cheesy novelty songs of the early 1950s they never knew what to do with “softer” acts like The Fifth Dimension and The Carpenters so they largely derided or ignored them. This critical bias extends to later performers ranging from Barry Manilow to Celine Dion.
Ambrosia’s silky smooth 1980 hit “You’re the Biggest Part of Me” exemplifies the balance of artistic intricacy and commercial appeal the best “yacht rock” achieves.
As per usual pop music consumers had profoundly different tastes than rock critics. Around the time glam rock, punk music, and rock revivalists like Bruce Springsteen enamored critics mid-to-late 1970s audiences invested time and money making the soft rock acts commercial superstars. A wide swath of soft rock or soft rock adjacent albums from artists as varied as The Doobie Brothers, Billy Joel, Leo Sayer, Boz Scaggs, and Steely Dan, reached platinum status and garnered favor via industry awards like the Grammys. The rise of soft rock continued well into the early 1980s when Captain & Tennille scored a #1 pop hit with “Do That to Me One More Time,” Christopher Cross won five Grammys for his debut album, and Doobie Brothers frontman Michael McDonald transitioned seamlessly into a successful solo career.
Then the tastes of U.S. consumers gradually pivoted away from the sounds of the 1970s toward styles geared more toward younger listeners and a more visualized culture. In the MTV era watching became more important than listening. While numerous artists from the 1970s reached new heights in the 1980s including Daryl Hall and John Oates, Kenny Loggins, and Lionel Richie, even they were crowded out gradually from pop radio and other outlets in the late 1980s. Relentless touring, soundtrack work, and recording for independent labels, helped many acts from the 1970s and early 1980s maintain ties with their established audiences.
In the mid-2000s the comedic web series Yacht Rock found a group of comedians winking and nodding at the era’s music in a series of videos that gained viewers and iconicity. Gradually, artists presumed retired or confined to the oldies circuit were reclaimed, and in some instances, repackaged as representing an overlooked cultural movement. CD compilations, cruises, concerts, and various forms of “merch” have embraced the yacht rock aesthetic as a laidback worldview for new and older generations of sybarites seeking old-fashioned fun.
Garret Price’s 2024 film Yacht Rock: A Dockumentary aims to document this moment by interviewing the original comedians, interspersed with recording and concert footage, recordings, and interviews with a dazzling array of commentators including yacht rock musicians themselves (e.g., Cross, Loggins, McDonald, Brenda Russell, and members of Toto); behind the scenes musicians (e.g., Jay Graydon, Gary Katz); new generation admirers (e.g., Questlove, Thundercat ); and multiple scholars and journalists. Some notable through lines include ongoing ambiguity about what defines the music sonically, critical attention to yacht rock’s jazz and R&B influences, including the subgenre of “yacht soul,” and the somewhat abrupt decline of soft rock in the mid-1980s. Similarly, the film constantly tap dances around the tensions between mockery and appreciation throughout. Whereas Cross, Loggins, and McDonald seem grateful for the attention, and bemused, and many talking heads sincerely appreciate the musical nuances beneath the easy melodies, a brief phone call between the film’s director Garret Price and Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen illustrates the concept’s annoyance to some musicians.
The late 1970s-mid-1980s music of George Benson reflects the fusion of pop, jazz, and R&B elements integral to the music of this era.
Once you complete the dockumentary the issue of genre remains unsettled and perhaps this is for the best. Before facile marketing speak and personal “branding” pervaded U.S. culture musicians usually saw themselves as artists first and rejected the commercial confines of genre. In that regard the way yacht rock’s music casually synthesizes strains of pop, rock, R&B, and jazz fusion reminds contemporary listeners of a time when musicians felt freer, compared to contemporary pop musicians, to experiment. To be clear little of the music associated with yacht rock the genre is avant-garde or overtly risky. Yet re-listening you can’t help but admire the rigor of the musicianship, the overlooked influence of masterful stylist McDonald, and the genuine respect the musicians have for each other. The rootlessness of yacht rock limits the term as a useful moniker for understanding the music but does not negate the enduring appeal of much of the music it evokes. This newfound appreciation of the lighter side of late 1970s-early 1980s reminded me of debates over the inherent bias of “rockism” (https://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/31/arts/music/the-rap-against-rockism.html) a stance that has widened the gap between audiences and the music press, and made rock criticism irrelevant to contemporary listeners who are more apt to appreciate pop eclecticism. After watching the show, I felt possessive and compelled to make my own playlist. Reclaiming the era—I grew up with this music—reminded me how great songs transcend labels. Regardless of whether “yacht rock” represents an enduring concept or just a moment, inviting melodies, entrancing chords, rich lyrics, and soulful singing are always in style.
Doobie Brother, solo vocalist, and harmonizer extraordinaire Michael McDonald is a kind of patron saint of yacht rock and is interviewed in the film.
The Playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0oqlmVeKPWbHc7cKKRXGCY?si=ky9Lp-fyR2yifSYL_NGYsw
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