You may not know the name John Simon, but you’ve definitely heard him. As a prolific producer in the 1960s and 70s, he helmed a string of hits for acts such as Janis Joplin, Leonard Cohen, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Simon & Garfunkel, and most notably The Band, for which he was often dubbed “the sixth member.” Check out his soulful production and horn-playing on their classic first two albums.

Unfortunately, his handful of solo albums faded into obscurity almost as soon as they were released. But to skip over his discography in favor of his more famous production work would mean missing out on his stellar debut, John Simon’s Album, a nearly lost relic from the ’70s that was luckily reissued in the same fashion as Smile and Pacific Ocean Blue, allowing listeners to experience a string of great, recovered records from one of the finest decades in music.

John Simon’s Album comes off like Randy Newman backed by The Band (all five original members were involved as either musicians or co-writers). Although it has the same rootsy feel as Music From Big Pink, Simon keeps it a bit more upbeat and lighthearted than the Canadian quintet, his playful tenor musing around piano-based fables about drifters, motorcyclists, and um…elves.

Yes, the title of opener “The Song Of The Elves” may sound like prog rock dribble, but don’t be deceived by appearances. Centered around doo wop piano and tunneled backing vocals, it’s a sincere, ponderous fairytale on religion and travel.  It’s quirky, but not overblown, and is the perfect introduction to an album that avoids categorization.

The rest of the tracks aren’t quite as whimsical, but still feature a wide array of colorful characters: “Davy’s On The Road Again” and “Motorcycle Man” are both songs about vagabonds with lessons to be learned, the latter a potential roadside romance between the track’s title character and Frilly Fae that never blossoms because of Fae’s pride. It’s a little sad, but insanely catchy, pushed along by Levon Helm’s backwoods R&B drumming. “Davy’s On The Road Again” (a wonderfully lazy number backed by clumsy trumpets and the snoring of an automobile) later became a hit for Manford Mann And His Earth Band, but like Bruce Springsteen’s “Blinded By The Light”, it’s best to stick to the rawer original.

Although musically diverse, the album carries the journeyman theme throughout.  Closer “Railroad Train Runnin’ Up My Back” is a more upbeat counterpart to “Davy’s On The Road Again”, featuring a quicker tempo strung around train whistles and pneumatic hisses instead of car motors. It’s the perfect song for any road trip. You’ll tap your foot when it’s fast and bob your head when the beat slows to a mechanical chug as Simon lists off a variety of towns and the freewheeling characters that pass through them.

But the album’s standout track, the one that I promise will hook you once you hear it (no lie, seriously), is “Tannenbaum”. Picture Neil Young improvising on his guitar over The Band’s dixie jazz horns with Ben Folds pounding the piano and you have some idea of what it’s like. But thanks to Simon’s bizarre lyrics about top girls and sex machines, it avoids really sounding like anyone. It’s a scant three and a half minutes of eclectic musical heaven and is more than enough to peek your interest in the rest of album.

The remaining tracks are dreamlike piano ballads, the kind of songs you picture while driving through a peaceful rain in New York City. “Don’t Forget What I Told You” is an unconditional love letter promise to a friend that never falls victim to the mousetrap cheese thanks to Simon’s rollercoaster wordplay. “The Fool Dressed In Velvet” warns us not to dismiss eccentric personalities when they may in fact be creative geniuses. In retrospect, you wonder if he’s talking about Brian Wilson or one of the countless other musical visionaries from Simon’s prime years.

After listening to John Simon’s Album, it’s baffling why it never took off, even after the reissue. Every track is unique, well crafted, cohesive, informative, and catchy as just about anything on 70s rock radio. Then again, the same could be said for his peers The Band, a group who never reached both the critical and commercial heights they deserved until long after their formative years had passed. Let’s hope the same fate is in the cards for John Simon. However, seeing as his first album was released in 1971, the prospects look dim. So do your part and at least listen to the damn thing, starting with “Tannenbaum” to suck you in.  You won’t regret it.

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