Written by Jerome Garcia and Robert Hunter
Recorded by the Grateful Dead
 
The Grateful Dead's outstanding songwriting is often lost within the popular focus on their improvisational approach to music and cultural influence. But behind all the smoke, jamming, and dancing is a large library of incredible songs and Americana. Black Peter perfectly exemplifies this - and it features one of my favorite bridges!
 
The song's protagonist narrates his last few days from his deathbed. He’s not looking for a grand send-off, just a few friends to share his last hours on earth, because “tomorrow, maybe go beneath the ground.”
 
And this is generally our protagonist’s take on his situation throughout the verses of the song. He wants to die peacefully. The laidback 7th-chord bluesy groove throughout captures the sweet sendoff of a dying man – but then comes our bridge, introduced by way of change in key. 
 
See here how everything lead up to this day
And it's just like any other day that's ever been
Sun going up and then the sun, it going down
Shine through my window and my friends, they come around
 
While his own life and impending death mean everything to this man, the earth will continue to spin as it does every day. But if we can accept that we’re mere specks of dust within the history of the universe, we can also appreciate the beauty of everything around us and our role as part of an endless thread of living and dying matter. This might be the last time he sees the sunrise and he wants to feel the warm glow in his room and spend these precious last moments with friends. Beyond his friends, he's just a poor dying man worthy of spectacle but not pity. And he joyfully accepts this. The beauty of this sentiment and the imagery of Hunter’s lyrics are, as always, matched perfectly with Garcia’s songwriting.
 
If you're playing along at home, one might wonder, which version of Black Peter should I listen to? With the Dead, that’s always a good question, as their music was built upon a guiding principle that the best version of a song is the one you’re currently creating. Additionally, they’re known as a live band and their studio versions of songs are often premature for a song’s development, overproduced, or simply uninspired. But with Black Peter, I’m confident in recommending the studio recording from Workingman’s Dead. The band is relaxed and perfectly within their element, Jerry’s vocals are sweet and heartbreaking, and the bridge gently flows back into the final verse guided by Pigpen’s mellifluous harmonica. Sadly, Pigpen’s health quickly declined in the few years following this release, and by his own choice and isolation during his final days, he was not surrounded by friends.
 
You won’t find harmonica on any live versions, but if you have the time, in addition to the studio version, you can also enjoy twenty-five years of outstanding concert performances, each one a little different than the other. So go ahead and roll on up, roll back down, and enjoy!

-MJK

Written by Paul Simon
Recorded by Simon and Garfunkel
 
The story of “America” follows a young couple on their journey from Saginaw, MI to somewhere on the New Jersey Turnpike, perhaps Philly or Trenton. It’s unclear where they wind up but I’ve always assumed it was New York, and hopefully not Atlantic City. The action takes place on a bus that our protagonist and his girlfriend Kathy board in Pittsburgh. But this is no ordinary road trip and Simon’s Greyhound transports our couple from the innocence of youth to the responsibilities of being a grownup.
 
The couple buy snacks and cigarettes, and the first leg of their trip eastbound across Pennsylvania seems to be going well. The two are not yet weighed down by the crushing realities of adulthood and they enjoy what is left of their fleeting innocence as we move into the bridge:
 
Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces

She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said "Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera"
 
Musically, the bridge introduces a shift in key and a soprano saxophone that joyfully chases after the bass line like two children in a playground. But this couple are no longer children. The bridge drifts back into the verse like the transition from a sweet dream into the harsh awareness of the waking life. The soprano sax is gone – and so are their cigarettes – oh no!
 
Without the coping mechanism of a good smoke, our protagonist struggles with his first existential crisis. He’s lost and no one can hear him. But the good news is he’s not alone – everyone is lost, but no one has given up hope: they’ve all come to look for America.  

-MJK  

Written by Barry Gibb
Performed by Frankie Valli

The film Grease was part of my childhood. It continued to screen throughout the 80s and I saw it in the theater twice, as well as endless times on TV and VHS. While most of my favorite music steered towards rock, new wave and early hip hop in those days, I never could deny a good musical.
 
Grease (is the Word) starts and closes the film. We're treated to the thumpy goodness of this song while the opening credits accompany an animated vision of what awaits us in the film. This song was written specifically for the movie and did not join theatrical productions until after the film’s success.
 
This song was written by Barry Gibb and performed by Frankie Valli. It's gotta be great, right? Well, it's fun, it's full of hooks and Frankie, as always, sounds great - but what the "F" is this song about? Really. It's weird. It's not about the movie and in fact, it feels like it was written without any knowledge of the movie at all. Like, it's just a confusing vague song about something vaguely understood as "Grease."
 
So why am I including it on my Best Bridges Blog? Because I like weird shit too - especially when I lived my whole life not realizing how weird it is. Let's jump into the bridge! And remember, this is supposed to be a fun song to get us ready for a fun film. 
 
This is a life of illusion, wrapped up in trouble
Laced with confusion, what're we doin' here?
 
That sounds awful. It doesn't sound like the movie, so why is it there? I don't know! I have nothing left to say. I hope to get back into some other Barry Gibb songs. The guy could write a good song. This one is just weird, but still, I love it. 

-MJK

Written and Recorded by Elliott Smith
 
The beautiful poetry of this song can probably be interpreted in different ways. I don’t read about the songs’ lyrics before writing these pieces, so this is my take and there’s a lot I’m still not sure about. What I do know is that it’s the song’s bridge that cuts through everything else.
 
Let’s start with the title. Musically, the ¾ time signature qualifies as a waltz and lyrically, the song’s narrative begins with someone who has perhaps “waltzed” in and out of the protagonist’s life. They’re at an open mic night, or perhaps karaoke, and a man and a woman battle out it through performances of The Everly Brothers’ “Cathy’s Clown” and “You’re No Good,” recorded most successfully by Linda Rondstadt. The guy is her husband, but he’s less consequential. She, on the other hand, has a hold on our protagonist:
 
I'm never gonna know you now
But I'm gonna love you anyhow
 
Is this woman, who “stares into space like a dead china doll,” the protagonist’s former lover? A friend? The mom who signs her letters “XO?” I’m not sure. But I do know that the narrator is struggling with her - and with himself. Because when we get to the bridge, his heart, pain and exhaustion are all laid out for us to see:
 
I'm here today
and expected to stay
On and on and on
I'm tired
I'm tired
 
I have no place assuming anything about the tragic end to Smith’s life​. ​A song’s protagonist and composer are not one and the same. But in the case of this song’s bridge, it’s tough not to listen to it now without knowing what we ultimately learned about Elliott Smith. Each writer has their own unique relationship with the distance between themselves and their characters. This song feels like there’s hardly any distance at all. It’s raw and it’s sad. And it’s beautiful. "XO​" to anyone out there suffering. Even if you don’t know me, I’m always available to talk. 

-MJK

Written and Recorded by Bill Withers
 
Ain’t No Sunshine is a classic heartbreak song. His lady has left him once again and each time she’s gone, he never knows if she’s coming back. Sunshine is this song’s metaphor and there ain’t none of it without her, leaving our protagonist cold and alone in the dark.
 
This song is wonderful even without the bridge, but with the bridge, it’s monumental! It’s a “breakdown” bridge where the bass, piano and sugary-sad strings drop out to clear the way for some hard truth represented exclusively by the drums and Bill’s vocals.
 
He knows she’s bad news and that he “ought to leave young thing alone.” In fact, he’s so positive he announces, “I know” twenty-six times! This is how much he knows this relationship is wrong! Yet, he admits that this self-awareness will be thrown right out the window because all that matters is that she’s gone, there ain’t no sunshine, and the only thing that he wants is her back home.
 
The full band returns as he sings “she’s gone,” swaying him back into the familiar heartbreak. We all know she’ll be back and we all know she’ll keep breaking his heart. But from the worst of heartbreak comes the best of songs. 

-MJK

Written by Pete Townshend
Recorded by The Who
 
While it may not be the most definitive Who song, Squeeze Box has a great bridge, and when I first heard the song, the thinly veiled double entendre was music to my fourteen-year-old ears.
 
On the surface, this song is about a child's mom who plays the accordion, also known as a “squeeze box.” One wears the accordion on their chest and, if so inclined, they can play it all night. Right?
 
Mama's got a squeeze box
She wears on her chest
And when Daddy comes home
He never gets no rest.
 
But the song is clearly about the kid's parents going at it all night and every night. So much and so often, that the children aren't being fed, and nobody, including the dog, can get any sleep. And while it's true that this song illustrates the mechanics of an accordion, it does get a little graphic when describing that she "goes in and out, and in and out." This is the kid’s mom!
 
But it’s not just about the sex, because something special happens in the bridge. The innuendo is left behind and the bridge focuses on the love between two people:
 
She goes, "Squeeze me.
Come on and squeeze me.
Come on and tease me like you do,
I'm so in love with you."
 
-which is quickly followed by a reminder that, "Momma's got a squeeze box, Daddy never sleeps at night" While his mother's verbal expression of love was beautiful, it's the physical act his parents like most. Because after a banjo break, we're back to going in and out again!
 
The Who's Who By Numbers is an otherwise, less remarkable record. The band was struggling with their demons and each other, and it shows. I’ll be back with another Pete song soon. Until then, go squeeze the one you love. 
 
-MJK
​

Written and Recorded by Aimee Mann
 
Many of us were first introduced to Aimee Mann as the lead singer of new wave band ‘Til Tuesday. And while many one-video-wonders from MTV’s heyday faded, Aimee’s “voice carried” into the nineties and beyond, blessing us with some amazing songs. Many of these songs are about bad love and feature great bridges.
 
In “Save Me,” we meet a lonely narrator ​who feels incapable of loving anyone and unworthy of anyone else’s love. But maybe this new guy is different:
 
You look like a perfect fit
For a girl in need of a tourniquet.
 
Can he stop the bleeding? Can he save her from “the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone?” The bridge may have the answer! The Beatles-esque instrumentation and production come to full fruition with the rip of guitar leading the way from chorus to bridge and throughout the reveal of her feelings for him:
 
You struck me dumb
Like radium.
 
The guitar steps aside to allow a more playful, fairytale-like piano part to accompany her ambitious request:
 
Like Peter Pan
Or Superman
You will come
…to save me
 
I love it when a bridge directly connects to another part of the song through a line of lyric. In this case, the return to the chorus signifies the fleeting moment of fairytale love.
 
We never find out if he will save her. In fact, we never hear much from him at all. But that’s ok because instead, we are gifted with a verse shared between a melodica and a guitar, that while sad, offers the listener a sense of peace and hopefulness. And then she asks again, “Come on save me, why don’t you save me, if you can save me…”
 
-MJK

Written and Recorded by Lou Reed

Satellite of Love was originally written for the Velvet Underground but that version didn’t make the band’s swan song LP, the aptly named Loaded. Two years later, Lou reimagined the song with help from friends like David Bowie and Mick Ronson, and it was included in his superb collection, Transformer. 
 
Inspired by the excitement of the space age and the satellites launched in the late ‘60s, this song introduces a narrator who likes watching satellites on TV. But this song is about a satellite of love, and love, like a satellite, has a way of orbiting around our hearts and often, never landing – but it is not until the bridge that this becomes clear.
 
I've been told that you've been bold
With Harry, Mark and John
Monday and Tuesday, Wednesday through Thursday
With Harry, Mark and John
 
It’s heartbreaking. Just a moment ago we were watching TV and contemplating parking lots on Mars, but the focus quickly goes from heavenly bodies to the earthly bodies being explored by our narrator’s lover.
 
While the three chords used in the bridge are all played in the verse and chorus, it’s all about the arrangement and execution here. The music becomes simpler, more playful, and theatrical, even childlike. The phrasing is staccato compared to the more patient vocal delivery in the verses and chorus. The bridge’s tonal change seems to mock the narrator’s discovery of his lover’s infidelity. It’s uncomfortable, and a little weird, but this is how someone feels when a lover steps out: isolated and anxious while everyone else is having the time of their life. From here, the narrator can only accept this fate and goes back to watching those satellites on TV.
 
Lou Reed is one of my heroes. A fellow “Coney Island Baby,” we were born in the same Brooklyn hospital and raised two Long Island towns apart. While I grew up a few decades after Lou, I’ve always felt connected to his worldview and musical approach to expressing it. Long Island is right next to “the city” but there is enough of a distance where even the coolest of us Nassau and Suffolk kids still felt like outsiders. And that was Lou, a definitive figure in late 60s and 70s coolness, but always the voice of an outsider.

-MJK