Even during their absolute peak of popularity in the early ’70s, when I was kid living for AM radio, the gushy, on-bended-knee, soft-rocking romantic balladry of Bread held no allure for me. My musical palate at that time, was as unrefined as my daily afterschool snack of a single Devil Dog™ with a Hawaiian Punch™ chaser. Sammy Davis Jr.’s “The Candy Man” and The Aristocats soundtrack were unironically being spun in my blue shag carpeted bedroom on a daily basis. I thought the Bay City Rollers were amazing and as good as The Beatles. But even my sugar-pickled brain with its relentlessly questionable taste, was able to discern that softer-than-soft rocking Bread were not cool.
I knew this because their songs were all icky-lovey-dovey like you’d hear at a wedding. I knew because in my grade school music class, their song “If” was deemed unthreatening and un-rock ‘n’ roll enough for we innocent children to be taught to sing. I knew this because they weren’t like, you know, cute, or at least cute enough for a table of pop-worshipping little gals at a lunch table to ever gush over (never happened ever). I knew this because easy listening crooners Andy Williams and Perry Como seemed really into covering Bread songs on their lame, grandma-seducing TV specials.
Bread’s imperial years ran from 1969-1973, during which time they released five (!) studio albums and landed nine songs in the Top 20 of the U.S. pop chart, every one of which is now a massively-streamed, seventies pop-soft rock monster standard. “Everything I Own”. “Make It With You”. “If”. “Baby I’m-a Want You”. “The Guitar Man”. Hits, hits, hits! The band—David Gates, Jimmy Griffin, Mike Botts, Rob Royer (from ’69-’71) and Larry Knechtel (’71-73, ’76-78)—broke up and reunited twice (1976-78, 1997-98)…and, as the timeline hints, there was a fair amount of inter-band drama.
Gates and Griffin were both were gifted songwriters but the former’s compositions featuring his lead vocals were the ones consistently released as singles. This led to a fair amount of bad blood and resentment which later manifested in a lawsuit over use of the band name which Gates and Griffin co-owned. Along with this excess of alpha dogs, there were drugs. Yes, even the sonically gentle Bread weren’t immune to all the traditional band-related tropes.
So why am I writing about these sappy suckers? Well, because as the years have passed, I’ve come to realize that while Bread weren’t “cool,” they definitely didn’t suck. They were in fact really good. Bread were a bottomless pit of memorable, lovely windblown pop songs…and they’ve inspired a staggering number of covers.
I’ve written a couple of lengthy, nerdy love letters on Cover Me about R &B covers of soft rock (here) and hoary old regular rock (here). While researching those pieces, I was struck by just how many covers of Bread songs there were. Not only were there a whole lot of soulful reinterpretations but there were a ton of alternately fascinating, weird and impassioned pop-flavored takes of Bread songs…and we are gonna explore.
Welcome to the gorgeous and goofy world of Bread covers.
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After years of saying no, I finally came up with the solution. I wouldn’t write a book about cover songs – instead, I would write a book about twenty specific cover songs, and through those twenty covers, a broader narrative would emerge.