Like Cocaine, ‘Now More Than Ever: The History Of Chicago’ Is Too Much Of A Good Thing
If you were a kid in the 1970s, somebody in your family, at some point, owned a Chicago record. Maybe it was your older brother, maybe even your parents. You saw that familiar logo, like a tricked out version of the Coca-Cola emblem, and put the needle to the groove, before being shocked by the stab of horns. Then came the rush of recognition, song after song you’d heard before on the AM radio in your family station wagon. To this day, I still can’t hear “Saturday in the Park” without seeing myself as a boy, stuck in traffic on the LIE while my Mom chain-smokes Kent III 100s.