The Doobie Brothers

The quintessential biker-meets-hippie California band, Doobie Brothers yielded a succession of soft-rock hits in the mid-'70s that have come to symbolize the complacent but irresistible charms of the era. Moving from mellow boogie to slick blue-eyed soul, this long-running group actually improved along the way. The Doobies began as a bar band in Northern California, earning a following among the Hell's Angels for their Sunday-afternoon jam sessions. The group's debut floated away to oblivion, but the Doobies honed a couple of sharp hooks on Toulouse Street, and bagged a winner. The formula was set -- toe-tapping power chords ("China Grove"), a strum-along buzz ("Listen to the Music"), high group harmonies, and choruses repetitive enough to drill their just-groovin'-on-it platitudes into listeners' skulls -- and would serve them well for much of the decade. Laid-back to the point of appearing blank, the Doobies come on like a slightly heavier Eagles -- or a slimmed-down Bachman-Turner Overdrive. The Captain and Me belies the extent of the group's vision: "Rockin' Down the Highway" and "Long Train Runnin'" are virtual clones of the previously mentioned songs, though that didn't stop them from becoming just as popular.

By the fourth album, lead guitarist and chief composer Tom Johnston starts to seem tapped out. Rhythm guitarist Patrick Simmons supplies the ersatz country-rock hit "Black Water," but the rest of Vices barely stays afloat. Stampede is led by Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, a studio guitarist for Steely Dan: Centered around a sluggish Motown cover ("Take Me in Your Arms"), the thundering charge never quite gains sufficient momentum. Exit Baxter, enter singer Michael McDonald, another Steely Dan alumnus. His luxurious tone and grain of soulfulness turned the Doobie Brothers' beat around. The 1976 hit "Takin' It to the Streets" steers clear of the funky gutter, reaching instead for a loftier veneer: MOR&B. "Takin' It to the Streets" also revolves around McDonald's vocals, electric piano, and a mildly syncopated beat -- the guitars and mellow country-rock gait are conspicuously absent. The Doobies quickly became Michael McDonald's franchise. Johnston left in 1978, and the Brothers went on to release one of their best. Minute by Minute's title cut and the hit single "What a Fool Believes" flaunt McDonald's suave vocal mastery quite effectively, though this elegant penthouse heartbreak is certainly a far cry from the group's origins. The inevitable reunion (sans McDonald) came in 1989 with Cycles, and, God, it's awful. Save for "The Doctor," a vapid sing-along ("Music is the doctor/Makes you feel like you want to") that became a Top 10 hit, the Brothers seem unable to recapture any of their old magic for simply putting words and music together in an appealing way. Ditto for Brotherhood, minus the hit. McDonald joined in for a series of concerts in 1996 benefitting the Wildlife Conservation Society. The resulting live double album, Rockin' Down the Highway, is slick to the point of anonymity, and a long haul even for diehard fans; The Best of the Doobie Brothers Live trims it down to one palatable disc. When last heard from, on Sibling Rivalry, the Doobies were still struggling vainly to put their formula to work again, with hideous consequences. (How's this for hypocrisy: a band named after pot singing "Down on every corner/We got children sellin' dope/Who's gonna send a message/And try to give 'em hope.") McDonald wisely stayed far away.

The Doobies were essentially a singles band; taste more than the hits and you're courting heartburn. Long Train Runnin', a four-disc, 79-track box set, is the definitive, if burdensome, anthology. The various stocking-stuffer collections are preferable, but of them, only the Rhino set fully bridges the Johnston and McDonald eras. Avoid Doobies' Choice, cuts supposedly chosen by the band: It makes weird choices and pushes the new stuff hard. (MARK COLEMAN/BEN SISARIO)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide