Loggins & Messina, "Loggins and Messina"

Mitch enters the danger zone

Mitch Blum

Ken Warshaw

, and

CJ Kaplan

Sep 27, 2023

Mitch’s Pitch:

Simon & Garfunkel.

Hall & Oates.

Loggins & Messina.

They’re the three most famous duos in rock history, but one of these is not like the other.

It always seemed like Paul Simon and Darryl Hall were saddled with Art Garfunkel and John Oates, and, given the chance, they’d gladly toss their partner overboard for some sweet solo success. Where Paul was quite successful as a solo act (especially when he was stealing those Los Lobos songs!) Darryl could never quite break through until he started inviting people over to his house.

But somehow fate (and music fans) tied these artists together forever. Art Garfunkel seems like the biggest pain in the ass in the world - the Larry David of folk-rock - and yet his angelic voice absolutely elevated Paul’s songs. John Oates seemingly brought nothing but good vibes and a great mustache, but his presence is clearly a prerequisite for H2O’s success.

I think of these as begrudging partnerships, where there’s a clear dominant partner and the other guy. They were partners before they were successful, and they’re stuck together because we think of them in the context of being half a duo. There’s some real monkey’s paw stuff going on here - you’ll achieve all of the success you’ve ever dreamed of, but you’re going to be eternally stuck with the guy with the jewfro or the Magnum mustache.

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Kenny Loggins and Jim Messina were a different kind of partnership. They didn’t grow up playing stickball in Brooklyn or running away from gangsters in Philly. They didn’t even intend on becoming musical partners. It just happened. It was an accidental pairing, based on musical chemistry, and it was (mellow) magic while it lasted.

Over time, Kenny Loggins’ solo success completely overshadowed Loggins & Messina. When we think of Kenny Loggins we think of ‘80s movies - Footloose, Caddyshack, and Top Gun - and his iconic soundtrack hits. In retrospect, it seems like Kenny Loggins was the senior partner in Loggins & Messina, but that definitely wasn’t true at the time.

Jim Messina was the wünderkind producer and guitar player who stepped in to finish up the third and final Buffalo Springfield album after Young and Stills lost interest, and then went on to found Poco with Richie Furay. A grizzled veteran by the age of 23, Messina was hired to produce Kenny Loggins’ debut album. He ended up contributing so much that they became partners and made 6 records together, including their second, Loggins and Messina.

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A confession: at one point in my life I was so obsessed with early country-rock that I kept a spreadsheet of every album ever released in the genre and collected most of them. I studied The Byrds family tree and tracked down every album by anyone named Parsons, be they Gram or Gene. I read all the books and argued with strangers online. I saw Marty Stuart play Clarence White’s guitar at the Grand Ole Opry and couldn’t understand why no one else was bursting with excitement.

So, yeah, a Loggins & Messina album from 1973 is right in my wheelhouse, especially when it sounds as good as Loggins and Messina.

The first thing that jumps out is the singing. They each sound great individually, but their harmonies and doubled-up vocals are truly special, especially on a beautiful song like the touching Viet Nam reflection “Golden Ribbons”.

I also appreciate the stylistic diversity in the songwriting. There are rockers (“Good Friend”, “Angry Eyes”), rave-ups (“Holiday Hotel”), folk ditties (“Whiskey”), jazzy soft rock (“Lady of My Heart”, “Thinking of You”), blues (“Long Tail Cat”), bluegrass (“Just Before the News”), and straight country (“Holiday Hotel”).

And yet, even with all of the genre shifts, there’s still a tremendous cohesiveness to the album, held together by Messina’s deft production touch. The album is warm and inviting, it feels sparse and uncluttered, even when the songs are layered with flutes and harmonicas.

Loggins and Messina is a true duo album by a willing and generous partnership, two artists who clearly respect each other, and who bring out the best in each other. It’s a rare and special thing.

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Musical partnerships are tenuous, which is probably why there aren’t more of them, and they don’t seem to last that long. It’s hard for artists to subsume their egos and accept creative input and feedback from someone else, especially if one partner feels superior to each other. Then again, it might help people get along when you’re as high as Kenny & Jimmy look on the cover of Loggins and Messina.

Ken’s Response:

Mike Mussina pitched in the major leagues for almost two decades. He was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on his 6th ballot, in 2019. Over the course of his career, he tallied 270 wins, 2813 strikeouts, a lifetime ERA of 3.68, and he took home a slough of hardware including All-Star selections, Glove Gloves, and several AL Player of the Week designations. Through it all, he was one of the most boring players to ever take the hill. I don’t ever remember a single season in which he dominated the league or caused the media to talk about him the way they used to talk about Roger Clemens, Nolan Ryan, Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, Greg Maddux, or Tom Glavine. He was never the best, but always in the top 10; a top tier player that we tended to gloss over (sorry Orioles and Yankees fans, it’s true), but a model of professionalism and consistency.

Jim Messina was a member of the legendary Buffalo Springfield. He co-founded Poco. He had a hall of fame career before he ever teamed up with the soundtrack guru, Kenny Loggins. As Mitch said though, we tend to think of him as an “also-ran”, the sidekick to the main attraction, Mr. Footloose, himself. When we think of Buffalo Springfield, we see images of Stephen Stills, Neil Young, and Richie Furay. Poco conjures up memories of Paul Cotton, Randy Meisner, and…Richie Furay.

Like his hurling counterpart with a homophonic handle, Jim Messina was often overlooked, never truly revered like his contemporaries, but his songwriting skills, his lovely guitar playing, and his more-than-competent vocals were consistent, professional, and almost always quite pleasant. The opening intro to “Good Friend” sets a mellow-yet-funky tone for the album, and it’s (shocker!) consistent throughout. “Whiskey” is a funny little number, if only because it’s the most anti-Whiskey A Go Go song since “Afternoon Delight”. Everyone knows “Your Mama Don’t Dance” and it’s a great singalong. While the middle of the album drags a bit, it comes in hot in the 9th inning to end it with the strange epic “Angry Eyes”.

You don’t have to be the best all the time; you don’t even need to be the best some of the time. Being really fucking good and consistent is usually more than enough. If Mussina is in the Hall of Fame, then so is Messina.

Oh, and Kenny Loggins plays on this album too. I don’t care much for him.

Pitch Successful (I’m Alright with some funky cold Messina)

CJ’s Response:

“Loggins doesn’t do soundtracks!”

That’s my favorite line from the transcendent mockumentary web series Yacht Rock. The irony, of course, being that Kenny Loggins is known almost exclusively for his work on movie soundtracks. In the series, faux Kenny bristles at the notion that someone with his musical pedigree and prowess would stoop so low as to create songs for popular films. As with any great parody, there’s probably an element of truth to it.

Conversely, Yacht Rock portrays Jim Messina as a down-on-his-luck alcoholic who lives in an alley because he never recovers from the break-up with Loggins. Admittedly, I didn’t know much about Messina prior to Mitch’s tutorial above. So I was content to lump Jimmy in with Oatesy and Artie G. Clearly I was wrong about that, but there’s a larger assumption here that I need to address. First, let’s discuss the album.

The music on Loggins and Messina is very nice. If that sounds like damning by faint praise, I don’t mean it to. The songs are pleasant and catchy and completely non-confrontational. I’ve always liked “Your Mama Don’t Dance” (except when Poison covered it, obviously) and I recognized “Thinking of You” and “Angry Eyes” from the deep recesses of my Best Of ‘70s collections. “Good Friend” and “Golden Ribbons” made an impression and “Whiskey” made me smile. But the overall feeling that the album gave me was neutral. Nothing stuck. Certainly not like it did when Mitch introduced me to the music of Gene Clark. And that’s my biggest problem with the pitch.

Loggins & Messina are not in the same league as Simon & Garfunkel or Hall & Oates. I’m more inclined to put them in a class with Seals & Croft and England Dan & John Ford Coley. They’re talented musicians. They had some hits. They inspired a funny web series. But, ultimately, they didn’t stick.

Let’s put it this way. A Simon & Garfunkel reunion sold out Central Park. I don’t think a Loggins & Messina reunion would sell out Central Perk. Even if Phoebe Buffay was opening for them.

Pitch Failed (If Bette Midler is involved, my mama actually does dance.)

Mitch’s pitch was unsuccessful and neither Loggins nor Messina will be making it into the Newbury St. Collection. What’s your take on musical duos? Which Top 20 album from 1973 would you have pitched? Please let us know in the comments section.

Exile on Newbury St.

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