Chicago, "Chicago" (Columbia, 1970)

In the late '60s, Columbia Records signed three bands that seemed to point the way toward a new direction in rock: integrating a horn section along with the basic guitar-bass-keyboards-drums lineup.

Two of those bands had pedigrees that pointed toward success. The Electric Flag featured Mike Bloomfield, perhaps the pre-eminent American rock guitarist at the time, in a new project following his groundbreaking work with the Butterfield Blues Band. Blood, Sweat and Tears' original lineup included Al Kooper and Steve Katz, formerly of the highly regarded New York City band the Blues Project, and Philadelphia native Randy Brecker, later a Grammy-winning jazz trumpeter.

The third of the Columbia horn bands didn't feature such recognizable musicians but had been featuring the horns right from the start, first as the Big Thing, then with a name honoring the members' hometown: Chicago Transit Authority.

Things didn't work out quite the way Columbia executives envisioned them. Both Bloomfield and Kooper left their respective bands after each released just one album, although both groups soldiered on, again with widely divergent results. The second Flag album stiffed creatively and commercially, spelling the end of the group; "Blood, Sweat and Tears," that band's sophomore effort, sold millions of copies and spawned three of the most-heard singles of 1969.

That year, the self-titled debut by Chicago Transit Authority appeared, and perhaps related to BS&T's massive success, the two-record set was a best-seller, too. Not only did the two bands take a similar musical approach, but they both worked with the same producer, James William Guercio.

By the time Blood, Sweat and Tears recorded a follow-up, though, Guercio was out of that group's picture. The resulting, self-produced "Blood, Sweat and Tears 3" sold relatively well, but nowhere near the numbers of its predecessor; I can't comment on what it sounds like because, frankly, I haven't heard it. But the album generally is regarded as something of a career killer, and although BS&T soldiered on for a while, it never came anywhere close to matching its '69 successes.

Chicago Transit Authority, meanwhile, entered the '70s on an ominous note: the real Chicago Transit Authority objected to the group's name, which subsequently was truncated to just the name of the city. And in that form was presented the simple title of the band's second album, which also has come to be known as "Chicago II."

Where BS&T had stumbled with its follow-up, Chicago put forth yet another two-record set that was chock full of catchy songs with plenty of room for the various members of the septet to display their prowess. The approach works even though much of the album is presented as a series of suites, which usually doesn't bode well. But in this case, Chicago makes it work on the strength of the compositions.

Side Two of the original LP, for example, is something titled "Ballet for a Girl in Buchannon." The suite consists of a number of shorter musical ideas, and they click, especially two of the segments that became hits in their own right: "Make Me Smile," which opens the suite and is reprised at its end, and "Colour My World," featuring Robert Lamm's simple piano figure and soulful vocal.

Another suite plays like chamber music: "Prelude," "A.M. Mourning" and "P.M. Mourning" leading into the late Terry Kath's beautiful "Memories of Love." And yet another suite is the hard-rocking "It Better End Soon," which is divided into four separate movements. including one that features Walter Parazaider's extending jamming on the flute.

The high point of the album - and indeed, of Chicago's four-decade career - is Lamm's "25 or 6 to 4," featuring a riff that became an instant classic and a guitar solo that shows Kath to be among the heavyweights of his era.

Like the "Blood, Sweat and Tears" album, "Chicago" was a tough act to follow, and Chicago tried by rolling out what its members knew best: one more double-LP set filled with suites, "Chicago III." Critics starting asking if enough was enough, especially after listening to the music, but a funny thing happened with the record-buying public: They bought it in droves. And the story was exactly the same for the next album, the four-LP "At Carnegie Hall," which sometimes makes lists of the worst albums ever but still has managed to move off the shelves at a brisk clip.

Chicago, of course, has sold more recordings than all but a handful of artists in the history of music. As for the relative merits of various albums, we'll leave that with the ears of the listeners.

Of course, none of that future success was guaranteed when Columbia execs decided it might be a good idea to sign some bands with horns.