At its fifty-fifth anniversary (released 4/28/69), Chicago’s debut (often known as CTA), has never sounded so ripe for consolidation to a single album instead of a double (on vinyl). In fact, repeated listenings over this extended period render it virtually impossible to resist a temptation to cut.
To be fair to all involved, while manager James William successfully mentored the band in its early stages, he is also the same man who encouraged the pretension(s) of the band as well as its ambitions. The result of that dual dynamic was the introduction of a self-indulgence that plagued not only this first effort, but many to come, including its successor Chicago II, where the high points (“Fancy Colours,” “25 or 6 to 4”) were camouflaged to the point of almost getting lost behind the twee likes of “Ballet For A Girl From Buchannon” (which includes “Male Me Smile”).
After an amiable enough beginning to CTA via the pop-jazz likes of “Beginnings” (precursor to bassist Peter Cetera’s later vocal spotlights and his solo career?), the LP begins to falter with the abrasive “Listen,” then spirals downward with “Free Form Guitar” and the faux blues of “South California Purples.” The former of those two might well have worked within the twelve-track sequence in abbreviated form (perhaps with snippets used as segues between tracks?), but the latter should’ve been relegated exclusively to the live setting (where it did reside in a prominent early position in 1969 and 1970 setlists).
The cover of the Spencer Davis Group’s “I’m A Man” was a regular encore during that same period and might better have served as the closer here as well. Chicago instead overplays its topical hand on “Prologue, August 29, 1968” and “Someday (August 29, 1968),” oblique references to the uproar surrounding the Democratic Party’s convention of 1968 that sound quite dated now. “Poem 58” and “Liberation” are likewise vague.
In contrast, the alternately robust and genteel horn arrangements distinguish the sound of the ensemble over most of the seventy-six minute plus playing time. And right from the start, on guitarist Terry Kath’s “Introduction,” the woodwinds, trombone and trumpet of respectively, Walter Parazaider, James Pankow and Lee Loughnane stand out alongside the adventuresome nature of Kath’s fretboard work, especially when placed parallel to the organ lines Robert Lamm plays on “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?.”
In fact, more of the late co-founder Kath’s playing might better have been expanded within individual cuts. More frequent injections of his intense and intricate playing, interwoven into the horn charts, would mirror the sophisticated rhythm work from drummer Danny Seraphine, perhaps the most technically skilled musician in Chicago.
Toward that specific end, Chicago Transit Authority pales in comparison to the debut of (Al Kooper’s) Blood Sweat and Tears the year prior. Child Is The Father to the Man features a more authentic feel of jazz spontaneity, plus classical overtones and musique concrete motifs that lend it a genuinely progressive slant.
In what is ostensibly a continuation of conflicting agendas within Chicago (which may in fact go back to its very genesis), on the 2018 50th Anniversary Remix, there is no info in any form detailing the technical process of engineer Tim Jessup’s sound enhancement. More’s the pity too since his effort, in conjunction with the band itself, allows musiclovers to hear the songs and performances anew: there’s certainly a wallop to the drums and an edge to the guitar missing from previous editions.
But it’s still all without a consolidated progression of numbers. Everpresent nonetheless is the tightly-knit ensemble playing the group had honed before it began recording, but that element of the work leaves only fleeting impressions. More discerning production would maximize that element of Chicago’s sound, not to mention the inherent songwriting potential within the ensemble (sans the overt commercialism and middle-of-the road orientation of later years).
With the blessed benefit of a half-century plus retrospect, however, those half-dozen or so selections comprising a pared down version of CTA still radiate the transportive power of truly great music.
