Hippies vs. Punks: Santana's Inner Secrets (1978)

So what were the Hippies doing in 1978? I think they were feeling pretty good about themselves. The peanut farmer who they helped elect president initiated and then presided over the signing of the Camp David Accords between Israel and Egypt at the end of summer. Peace in the Middle East seemed like a done deal. This was before the Iranian Revolution, Grand Mosque seizure in Mecca and Soviet invasion of Afghanistan prompted Carter's sharp swing to the right, paving the way for the "Reagan Revolution." The nation, a few short years after abandoning Vietnam (a great victory for the Hippie), was back in the grip of militarism, a grip that would never loosen. Now we have come to the point of no return. The Middle East is cracked beyond repair. War rages in Syria, Iraq, Yemen, not to mention conflicts in Gaza, the Sinai, Lebanon, and Libya.

But in the summer of 1978 the Hippies were feeling fine. And when they got to feeling that way it meant that it was time to make some real money.

Heading into this week I mused, "When Poly Styrene was raging against the plastic machine of capitalism in Germfree Adolescents (1978), what was a big established Hippie band doing? -- Hey, what about Santana?"

Since watching a DVD of Fillmore: The Last Days a while back I have had Santana on my mind. If you have seen the documentary you know that its organizing principal is Bill Graham's efforts to piece together a bill for the final show at Fillmore West. The "Great White Whale" the megalomaniac promoter hunts throughout the film is Santana; he wants them to close out the final show. And in this Moby Dick Ahab gets his whale.

Fillmore: The Last Days is an amazing document because it records how spent the Hippies are as early as the early summer of 1971. Santana, based on the strength of the bands first three albums --Santana (1969), the super-historic Abraxas (1970) and a Billboard 200 #1 album Santana III (1971) -- as well as the orgiastic performance captured in the Woodstock (1970) film, is at the top of the Hippie heap in Nixon's pre-Watergate America:

Growing up in California in the 1970s, the sound of Santana was ambient. "Black Magic Woman/Gypsy Queen" and "Oye Como Va" floated in the air, ever-present. Wherever one went there it was. Whether you were at a public park or driving down the main thoroughfare the sound of Santana was the sound of life then. "La Raza." It must have scared the shit of the Hoover types in Washington D.C.

But Fillmore: The Last Days is the end of the line for the band's original lineup. There would be no more chart-toppers until Santana reunites with Clive Davis for the 1999 blockbuster Supernatural.

After the shakeout of the original lineup Carlos gravitates to the fusion camp of Mahavishnu Orchestra, coming under the sway of John McLaughlin's guru Sri Chinmoy. Chinmoy gives Carlos a new name, Devadip, and Santana releases a few fusion albums before returning to the charts with Amigos (1976), much to the relief of executives at Columbia Records.

Amigos and 1977's Festival have a salsa-heavy vibe spiced up by Devadip's guitar-hero fusion blasts. Both records are produced by Columbia Records journeyman David Rubinson (who we last encountered with Moby Grape).  All these records are excellent. In fact, for every Santana album I have listened to this past week I find little to complain about. They're immaculate and soulful. Which makes me question Robert Christgau's stingy grades and dismissive tone. I don't think his reviews are accurate. I think Christgau is captive to some East-Coast snobbery here.

To be fair, I would mark everything up to Inner Secrets which I listened to this week -- I didn't hear the double-album Moonflower (1977) though or any of the post-Caravanserai (1972) fusion records -- at grades of excellent. And I would grade Inner Secrets excellent as well; let's say "A-minus."

What is controversial about Inner Secrets is its choice of producers, Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter, the two award-winning music industry insiders responsible for the successful turnarounds of the Four Tops and Glen Campbell. It is the Lambert-Potter "One Chain (Don't Make No Prison)," a song the duo wrote for the Four Tops, that alienated, or so the story goes, diehard Santana fans. It's a disco dance track, plain and simple. (Listen to the YouTube at the top of the post.) As Christgau opined, "It's sad when one of the few megagroups with a groove powerful enough to get it out of any jam resorts to hacks like Lambert and Potter for a hit. I mean, Santana is schlocky anyway. But Santana's own schlock has some dignity. C+"

Lambert-Potter were also responsible for Tavares and Player and mega-hits like "It Only Takes a Minute" and "Baby Come Back":

Another curious track on Inner Secrets is "Open Invitation," a hat tip to heavy metal. I thought I was listening to Scorpions.

But for all its crass commercialism and a vibe that evokes a clean room at computer chip manufacturer, there is something about Inner Secrets, its blending of fusion with disco, of Mahavishnu Orchestra with Tavares, that is fascinating. The Hippies are cashing in but trying not to cash out. It is an interesting effort.

In the end, we can pronounce it a failure. Meditation and Eastern esoteric religion proved to be not a powerful enough talisman to fend off the vampire of commercialism. But that was not as obvious in the summer of 1978 as it is to us today.